Christmas In New York
by mrpadfoot
Summary: Ultimate X story. Rogue and the other X-men are in New York City for Christmas. This is my way of introducing everyone's favorite Cajun to the cast.
1. Of Bloomingdales and Snowfall

~ I don't own nor do I work for Marvel I just use their characters in stories and such. K? ~  
  
A/N: o hello people. Yeah. This is based around Ultimate X and such. But the idea of the X-men going public has always angered me. So here's the spiel: the X-men aren't famous although they fight Magneto and some people know who they are the government is still out to get them cuz we all know that that's what Bush would do if this was real right?  
  
New York City. The big apple. It really is a magic place when you get right down to it. It's a place of children's faces on display windows, who see magic as apposed to a lot of machinery. It's a place of gray snow and a gate that can't be placed at either a walk or a run. It defines the holiday season as Kitty Pryde showed me just a few weeks ago.  
"No you don't get it!" snapped the Illinois born mutant over a pair of blue jeans, "no they aren't just jeans you Goth! Rogue? Hello.are you listening to me?"  
"No," ah answered truthfully ah was watchin' snow that was beginnin' to fall outside Bloomingdale's store window. The graceful flakes arched downward as a man walked quickly by outside blowin' into his hands for warmth.  
"We only have like 3 days left before Christmas, and Chanukah starts tomorrow night! I've done next to no shopping!"  
"That's great," ah said. Ah had taken in every word jus' wasn't processing in right. Snow does that to you. You can tell especially with kids, like the three-year-old who was in front of me then. His fingers were crammed into his mouth and he stood transfixed by the flakes that slowly fell and hit the pavement, meltin' away forever. Kitty was still jabberin' on in a nearly incoherent fashion. Who knew Valley Girls were from Chicago?  
She gave up after a few minutes, "Rogue, you wanna hit Starbucks?"  
"Sure," ah said, castin' one last glimpse out the window as a tall guy walked by in a trench coat. We exited the store at the corner of Lexington an' 3rd, pullin' our winter coats further up aroun' us. I could see my breath floatin' above me like a ghost before driftin' away in some unseen wind. Kitty walked in a typical New Yorker style. She had adjusted well. Me? Ah'm a southern Mississippi girl, born an' raised. I'm not used to snow. An' probably never will be an' that threw me off causin' me to look more like a tourist then I ever had.  
As soon as we wandered in to the little coffee shop Kitty dropped her bags at the nearest table. Ah dropped my coat off happily in the warmth. Snow melted on the brown floor next to me. The room was lit brown, everythin' about Starbucks screams "coffee." It makes you really wan' a cup. Ah'm sure that helps profits.  
Kitty came back with a brown cardboard tray in her hands holdin' out one white cup for me. "Thanks," ah said takin' it. Kitty nodded an' added about fifty sugahs stirring it nonchalantly her left hand on her chin.  
The streets of New York were empty, unlike in the summer when everythin' and anythin' you can imagine is happenin' on every street corner. Magicians, salesman, and food venders waited for you until about November then it got too cold an' they all disappeared. Sometimes the last of the species would carry on 'til the first snow then call it quits.  
The door to the coffee palace opened again sendin' in a gust of icy wind. Kitty swiveled around in her bench. Two people walked in one was so bundled up I hardly recognized her, but the other grew up in Alaska, a New York City winter wasn' gonna do it for him.  
"Hi Scott, hey Jean!" called Kitty, waving her gloved arms around like an idiot.  
"Hi," said Jean taking off her hat revealing her short red hair, "how's it going?  
  
Scott came and sat next to me. His were eyes hidden behind red ruby quartz glasses. Which ah'm sure can be a pain.  
He an' I are in the same boat really. Neither of us can control our powers an' I fear that's the way it'll always be. He'll never be able to really look at us, not in a bizarre totally red way that ah'm sure he's gotten used to an' me? I'll never be able to touch anyone.ever. That thought always depresses me. I guess it's one of the trials and tribulations of bein' a mutant: you can't choose your gift. An' you can't always control it.  
"Don't forget you guys," Scott's voice cut into my thoughts as well as Jean and Kitty's conversation, "Proffesor Xavier wants us back at the hotel by 8. I would say try to make it in earlier. Its not safe out there." That's Scott all right. Determined to be in charge and more responsible then any one ah've ever met.  
"Geez chill out Scott, it was a great idea of the professor's to have the holidays in the city. My mom does really miss having me home for Chanukah though," said Kitty fiddling with the Star of David around her neck.  
"Oh," sighed Scott slowly, Jean touched his hands from across the table and ah felt a wave of sympathy. Cyclops was an orphan. I knew what it felt like not havin' anyone to love you, my parents aren' the best in the 'my daughter is a mutant' field. Nor can they even say Homo - superior without mutterin' "freak" in the middle. But Scott really had nobody. Totally. 100% alone.  
When Kitty finished her coffee we pulled ourselves out of the wooden  
benches and began to jog toward 5th, leaving Scott and Jean heading  
towards 2nd Avenue. FAO Swartz towered above us, men dressed as toy  
soldiers stood guard over the land of fantasy. Across the way the  
Plaza glittered in all of its glory, it knew its importance and I  
would have thought it was snooty if the Proffesor hadn't been payin'  
for us to stay there.  
Ah saw him again. 


	2. Of Toystores and Sunglasses

Well howdy y'all. I feel really weird writing this at the end of a humid and still August day. So I lit a candle, turned the AC WAAAAAY up and pretended it was December. Just in case you care.didn't think so.  
  
I know Gambit wasn't wearing sunglasses in Ultimate X, but people have to be pretty dumb not to realize what he is. I mean I have never ever seen anyone with red and black eyes. But that's just me. ~~~  
  
He was sittin' there at the foot of the buildin', one knee up to his shoulder. His right leg was straight out so you could see the inside of his trench coat. He was playin' with what seemed to be cards. I had seen him once before that day although I couldn't place where. Probably jus' walkin' around. He was wearin' sunglasses although the snow was comin' down harder then before. His gloves had holes where his fingers stuck out from the black fabric. He had auburn hair that was pulled back into messy ponytail. Strands fell out landing on his face. The black lenses on his sunglasses hid both his expression and the direction he was looking but ah could almost feel a gaze. "Where to now Rogue? Rogue? Rogue? Marie?" shot Kitty furiously "Don' call me that, Shadowcat!" ah said exasperatedly, "Ah hate my name." "What're you looking at over there that's so interesting?" she asked studying the building. She saw the guy sitting about 10 meters away from us. "Oh," She said almost knowingly, "He's cute." He wasn't lookin' in our direction anymore but starring at some farther off sector of the street. As we came nearer he slipped the cards into an invisible trench coat pocket and got to his feet, brushing the snow off of himself. Kitty wanted to go into the overpriced toyshop and as we were going in he was leaving. ah watched him leave, ah also caught site of somethin' red underneath those frames but ignored it as some trick of the light. Inside music was playin' in a continuous loop. It was some dumb kid's song that you learn jus' from standin' in there: "Welcome to our world. Welcome to our world. Welcome to the world of toys!"  
"I've got to get my mom something for Chanukah, I'm not going to forget her all together." Kitty said as we ascended the escalator and passed the huge life sized water buffalo stuffed animal that cost over a thousand bucks. Who pays that that much for a toy? Ah thought. "So why are we in a kid's store then?" Ah asked Kitty honestly. "She grew up in Montana, on a horse farm and collects horse stuff to remember those days." Answered Kitty matter-of-factly, "I figured I'd get her eight little things or one huge ass present." "Kitty you ain't gonna by nothing huge ass at this store unless your plannin' on spendin' over a hundred dollars on a horse stuffed animal." I told her truthfully. "Then something medium ass," she said turning over a small stuffed horse that was standing on all fours its long russet mane lay around its ankles. "This'll do." She said shortly. Her hand dove into her jean pocket, "That's funny," Kitty looked dumbstruck, "I had my wallet at Starbucks.I feel like such a tourist!" she dug into all her pockets handing me the smilin' surreal pony. She pulled her coat pockets inside out. "O my god I must have left it at Starbucks!" she gasped. "This horse is kinda freaky lookin' you sure you wanna get it?" ah asked turning the toy around and around in my hands. "Can I borrow some money?" asked Kitty solemnly all of her pockets turned out. "Fine, jus' pay me back when you get the chance." I told her, "You know I did most of my shoppin' weeks ago." "Well la-di-da." Said Kitty pushing the inside of her pockets back in place. The man at the cash register looked warn out. "Merry Christmas," he added after ringing us up. "Shalom," Said Kitty coolly. We left the store together into the now thick snowfall the thick cloud blanket was white and showed no braking point between the clouds. With Kitty's mother's present in hand we walked across the street to the Plaza Hotel. 


	3. Of Cajuns and Bullets

Chapter 3? I met this girl through camp named Caitlin Woods, who's from Alabama, which is right next to Rogue's home state of Mississippi and she sounds NOTHING like this, although on a trip she took to New Orleans (which is like the equivalent of me going to Washington DC) she says that in the French Quarter people really do have Gambit thick accents and that's saying something. Just a random fact.k I'm done.  
  
This story sounds less and less like New York, but hey humor me. I don't do well with criticism. Although I haven't received any on this story! YAY! You like me you really like me! ::does a little dance:: Just a note for this chapter: French has accents. I don't know how to make accents on the com. Also I take Spainish. I know next to no French. SO DON'T KILL ME!!! All right this time I'm REALLY done. Peace.  
  
~~~  
  
The res' of the day past in a whoosh of red an' green wrappin' paper, silver menorahs, an' loud Christmas music bein' sung not only by the recorded choir but also by passin' guests. Kurt could be heard beltin' songs out with the recordin' in his heavy German accent. After dinner we returned to the hotel and trudged up to the suite that Kurt, Bobby, Scott, Peter, an' Hank were all sharin'. We were laughin' an' havin' the time of our lives even Scott seemed to smell the holiday cheer an' lighten up.  
  
Kitty sat crossed legged on the floor wrappin' that gift we bought at FAO Swartz. Kitty an' ah had returned to the Starbucks to now avail, no one had seen her wallet. Kurt was leanin' over the bed watchin' Kitty without much interest. He had to wear an image inducer against his will to avoid an.complications with the public.  
  
"You know," he said leanin' towards Kitty, "Zat might not make it half  
way agross ze country in time. I zent my gifts out veeks ago."  
  
"But you live in Germany, Kurt, besides I'm sure the circus or whoever you sent them to got their ages ago!" argued Kitty puttin' a silver ribbon Kurt's nose.  
Iceman, Cyclops, Colossus, an' Beast were playin' cards on the couch. Jean an' Storm were deep in conversation about some movie they had seen together. An' me? Ah'm not very social so ah sat on the large armchair near balcony door readin' the Shinin' by Steven King.  
  
At around 11:15 Storm, Shadowcat, an' ah walked down the perfect hallway to our perfect room in the perfect plaza. Jean stayed an' later we found out she was sneakin' off with Scott.  
  
Ororo yawned loudly as she put her black an' blue toothbrush to her teeth an' began usual nighttime exercises. Kitty chucked the oddly shaped horse package across the room its paper crumblin'. After a few goodnights everyone was fast asleep.  
  
"You no good little thief!" At first ah thought it was part of my dream, "you fuckin' little law breaker I'm gonna kill you!" gun shots. Ah rolled over in bed. The others didn' hear it. Ah looked blearily at the shinin' red letters. 2:15. It passed, or so ah thought, "You goddamn thief!" that was when ah realized this coulda been happenin' right under my nose. Ah walked out onto the balcony, greeted by a nipping air that froze you in seconds. Ah saw a fatter man carryin' a shot gun callin' out into the night, a guy around Scott's age maybe a little younger seemed to be backin' away holdin' somethin' small out in his hands. "Gotcha!" shouted the fat man as the youth staggered backward throwin' somethin' up that drifted slowly to the pavement. His left arm grabbin' his right shoulder. Ah raced back into the room pullin' a pair of jeans on under my nightgown an' a pair of sneakers that ah doubted were mine.  
Ah was on the pavement moments later. "I called the police," the older man was sayin' sweat trickin' down his ugly pink face. "They're coming to this spot." Then Ah acted totally on impolse. My right hand freed my left from its hot prison. "Stop Shootin'!" ah prayed he would listen to me. His response was another shot. "Fine," ah reached out my glove free hand collidin' with his raw pink cheek. He stood there for a few seconds before his rat like eyes rolled back into his skull. An' he hit the pavement.hard. Ah heard movement behind me an' wheeled around hand out. He caught it without lettin' me touch him. It was the other person ah had observed from my window. It was also the guy who had been sittin' outside FAO Swartz. His trench coat swung out in back of him like a cape, eyes still hidden behin' dark sunglasses despite the time. His right shoulder was covered in red blood that soaked the tan trench coat. Ah just stood there for a second. My han' caught in his grip my eyes on his handsome face.  
Sirens.  
New York is always alive, always busilin' but I knew these sirens were for the person clutchin' my wrist.  
"They're comin'," ah said. His lip twitched slightly. He brought his longhaired head a bit closer to mine.  
"Will you trus' me?" he asked, a deep heavily accented voice leavin' his lips. His feet were crunchin' the remains of plastic an' glass.  
"What? No! How do ah know you ain't gonna hand me in you know what ah am-" ah broke off, he released my arm from his grip an' brought it up to his sunglasses. They came off catching the light makin' them flash slightly.  
Two red irises starred back into my green ones, beneath them black replaced the usual white. He an' I shared one secret, these weren' human eyes. The crimson glittered, glowing a little in the near dark of Manhattan. "Will you trus' me?" he asked again, slower this time blood soakin' into his coat sleeve.  
Ah nodded.  
"Good," he said slowly. The sirens had gotten louder. But by the time turned the corner an' landed in front of the hotel we were gone. He was nearly carrin' me now. His trench coat flew out in back of him. His injured arm lay motionless at his side. We turned down into a subway station tearin' down the steps.  
"Why are we-?" I began but he shushed me quickly.  
"I'll 'xplain later," he said, sunglasses once again coverin' his card colored eyes.  
The subway station we landed in was quiet the only thing ah heard were the late night New Yorkers and a subway that must have jus' passed.  
He jumped down onto the tracks jus' missin' the deadly third rail. "Are you insane?" ah asked totally thunderstruck.  
"Oui." He answered, wrappin' his hands around' my waist an' gently bringin' me down next to him. "Stick close, alrigh'."  
We walked along the tracks a ways stayin' to the side. Down the tunnel ah first saw it. An old car had been abandoned to the side of the tracks. To my surprise, he walked over to one of the shut doors an' pried it open.  
"What're you doin'?" ah asked a bit confused.  
"Dis is 'ome chere." He answered pullin' himself into the oddly angled subway. He took my gloved hands an' helped me inside. It was dark in the car. He instructed me to sit in my seat an' watch my eyes while he started a fire. He bent down over the center of the car, cringin' slightly as he attempted to use his bad arm. He pulled somethin' paper like out of his huge trench coat pockets an' it began to glow with a deep bizarre wine colored light. He dropped it into what I now saw was a bunch of wood.  
BANG!  
There was a huge explosion, a few pieces of wood flew off banging' against the seats of the subway. But the wood that was left in the center was burnin' throwin' an orange red glow aroun' the car it felt almost like a security blanket.  
"I really shoul' fin' a safer way to do dat," the stranger murmured replacin' what ah now saw were playin' cards to his pocket. The one he had dropped was probably blasted to pieces. He wandered slowly across the seats facin' mine tryin' to move his shoulder. His good hand had already removed his sunglasses an' was now workin' on the coat. Ah got to my feet walkin' across the car to help him. "T'anks," he muttered allowin' me to remove the stained coat.  
"Who are you?" ah asked slowly, examinin' the small bullet hole in his coat.  
"Remy," he said quietly, "Remy LeBou." He was wearin' a sleeveless white shirt underneath an' ah could see where the blood had been pourin'. "An' you chere?"  
"Rogue." Ah said rippin' off a Nightgown sleeve to use as a bandage.  
  
"Rogue?" he repeated.  
"Marie," ah said wrappin' the bright crimson wound with the white silk. "I like dat," he smiled up at me from the bench, "'s beautiful."  
"Call me it an' ah swear ah'll touch you!" ah said menacingly.  
"Not necessarily a bad t'ing," he said half grinnin'.  
"When its me it is," ah reminded him.  
"Well t'ank you, Marie." He added smilin' slightly but only slightly 'cause of his arm. Our eyes met. For a second neither of us talked. I learned from Remy LeBou that eyes truly are the windows to the soul. Those red an' coal black pools seemed to show the inner depths of his emotions. They were so full of life. So full of truth. Ah wanted to lean in, to kiss him, to change the emotion ah saw reflected in his eyes of bright red. But ah couldn' so ah looked away. He seemed almost disappointed. Ah didn' even mind he called me by my human name.  
"When did you get to this country," ah asked asumin' with a name like Remy an' an accent like that he was French or Canadian, although ah had detected a touch of Southern in it, thinkin' jus' that he must have been here for a long time.  
"Dis country? Chere I was born in de US, I' Cajun, not French." He was laughin' but not cruelly, almost as if we shared a joke then.  
"Oh, sorry." Ah said smilin' sheepishly. "So your from Louisiana?"  
"Oui. NewOrleans." When he said New Orleans you could here both capital letters it was jus' one word. Ah had been there once when ah was small an' could now vividly remember similar accents.  
"When'd you get to New York?" ah asked.  
"A couple mont' ago, you?" he shot at me like a tennis ball.  
"Ah'm from Mississippi. Ah live in Westchester now." Ah told him  
"Why?" he asked.  
"School." Ah answered casually, sittin' down next to him beginning to study the car. "Why do you live here?" ah asked. A metal stick sat in the far corner of the room glistening in the firelight like it too was burnin', a few cards scattered the ground like fallen leaves. A moth-eaten blanket slightly green with age sat next to Remy hangin' over the rail.  
"When its'all you can afford." He told me a bit slowly an' quietly the nightgown sleeve aroun' his arm was growin' crimson and wet.  
"That man," ah began changin' the subject, "he called you-"  
"A t'ief" put in Remy, "yeah s'true. I dropped what I took dough when I got hit."  
"But...but.that's against.the law." Ah stuttered ah was teachin' him somethin' he should definitely already know.  
"De law?" he repeated grinnin' "never heard of it." 


End file.
